Carnivore
by D0uble0hD0nut
Summary: Being a hitman is simple. You kill, and ask no questions. Jon seems to have forgotten that last part, and now The Authority wants his head. Things only get more interesting when a kind school teacher saves his life and gets roped into this mess. *Ambreigns*
1. Chapter 1

**_(I've been talking about adding this to my works for a while and now it's here. I hope you all enjoy the new ride that is to come~)_**

 ** _Rating: M-Ma_**

 ** _Main Pairing: Ambreigns_**

 ** _Content Warnings: Explicit Sex, Language, LOTS of Violence, and Character Death_**

* * *

 _Carnivore_

 _Chapter 1: Rule of Thumb_

He groaned as his head was snatched back, hissing when the overhead light beamed directly into his eyes. His head was pounding and everything was a haze as he tried to focus on the man above him. He was slapped hard, head snapping to the left as a raspy laugh bounced around in his head like a rubber ball.

" _What did we tell you, Mox? Do your job and_ _ **no one**_ _gets hurt! Why was that so hard? Hm?"_

Who the hell…?

" _Aw c'mon, you piece of shit, I know we didn't hit you hard enough to knock any memories out of you. Get the fuck up!_ "

He was slapped again, and this time he growled, looking up as his double vision began to merge into one. Fierce blue eyes glared into a set of half-lidded brown ones, and suddenly he remembered the face he was looking at. He remembered the annoying ass voice he'd come to know over the past few years. That dumb ass fading blonde patch and that exaggerated fake laugh.

He remembered why he was there in the first place.

 **/2 Days Earlier/**

He wiped his mouth after taking a long swig of some drink he didn't know the name of. His target had bought it for him-the second one that night-probably assuming he'd been impressing the younger man by his display of money. Or probably to just get him drunk so he could take him to bed. With this man's track record, he wasn't surprised. He was smart enough to check the drinks first, however. Which was how the first got "accidentally" spilled on the girl beside them earlier that night.

The target in question William Regal, the CEO of some shady company. He'd been sent to gather intel and 'take care' of him. He swallowed another mouthful, slamming the glass onto the bar before looking over at the older dirty blonde, eyes hooded.

"Are you taking me upstairs or are we going to continue dancing around?' he inquired bluntly. William looked at him in surprise, brows shooting up before he purred, nodding drunkenly. "You cut no corners. I like that. I've got a room upstairs" He cooed, standing and swaying towards the stairs. He bit back the urge to roll his eyes, following him.

This would be too easy.

He wondered how long it would take the British bastard to notice that the drink he spiked and tried to give to him was switched and that he had drank it, instead. He pushed the door to the bedroom open, leading the drunken man in before closing and locking the door behind him, discarding him by simply pushing him to the floor, making his way deeper into the room.

Ugh. Rich people.

He fished through a few drawers to his left first as the man tried to crawl up and stand. He pushed past him, knocking him back down as he made a beeline straight to the computer, pulling out a fresh USB, standing back as it began to break down all security on the computer and rip all of the files out of it.

"W-Wha…? The bloody hell a-are you doing? W-What did you do to my drink?!" William squawked from the floor, grabbing onto his leg. The younger man growled, quickly getting annoyed with the older man's pestering.

"The better question is this: what did _you_ try to do to my drink?" He shot back flatly. William's eyes widened and he began squirming around, drunkenly crying for help. He growled and pulled out a pistol, leering down at the man, a growl rumbling from his throat.

"You're annoying."

"N-No please! D-Don't kill me! I'll pay you!" He slurred. He rolled his eyes and let out an unamused snort. "There's not enough money you could give me to fix my problems, bub" He hummed, tilting his head as his hand moved to and fro, teasingly looking for the right spot to send the bullet deep into. William tried to crawl away, slurring once more as he cried for help.

"W-who are you? Why are you even doing this?!"

The man's gloved finger twitched against the trigger.

"Jon Moxley. And because I can. Isn't that the code amongst scumbags like you?"

Before the man could respond, two silenced shots were put between his eyes. Jon clicked his tongue, picking up the shells before he snatched his USB out once it had completely taken all of the data out of it, smirking to himself as he stuffed it in his pocket and opened the window, sliding out with practiced ease.

He walked down the street with his hands in his pockets, turning the corner and bumping into a tall, British man. He grunted, both of them looking at one another before the man spoke. "Did you take care of him?" He inquired. Jon cocked a brow, looking unimpressed. "Would I be standing in front of you if I _didn't_ handle him?" He bit back. The man hummed, looking towards the booming high-end house before clicking his tongue.

"Very well. I'll call in the cleanup crew. Hunter says to have the USB on Stephanie's desk by morning. Goodnight, Moxley" He hummed and sighed, pulling up the collar to his jacket before walking down the street, dead leaves kicking up from a small gust of wind, causing a miniature tornado to form. Jon hardly spared him a second glance as he walked the opposite way, getting into his car. It was an old Ford, and he often wondered how the tin can hadn't killed him yet. The car had damn there more issues than he did.

He put putted his way home, lazily treading up the stairs to his apartment, grumbling as he fished his keys out of his pocket. The cat lady a few doors down was shouting again about something he didn't know or care about. The single mother in the room beside him was clearly having trouble getting her teething son to calm down while the couple above him were engaged in what could only be explained as the most one sided sex he had ever heard, if the girl's exaggerated, repetitious moaning was anything to go by.

Just another night.

He strolled into his apartment, pausing in the doorway as if waiting for someone to greet him. Lazy eyes scanned the expanse of the one bedroom space and he almost snorted, kicking the door closed behind him. Of course no one was there to greet him. He toed off his boots, sliding the leather gloves off of his hands before walking to the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. The contents inside included a case of beer, Chinese takeout from three days ago, and some food the girl across from him had given him as a "I'm new here, be my friend" offering. He didn't touch it, however. It looked like a block of under cooked cheese and he did his best not to push it back into her hands when he first gave it to her. With a roll of bored blue eyes, Moxley grabbed two beers out of the fridge and walked out of it, heading to the living room.

He popped the cap open by tapping the edge of it against the coffee table before plopping down onto the couch, feet finding their way to the table as he strolled through the channels.

News.

Someone dying again, three legged kitten in mittens, politicians behaving like jackasses.

Cartoons.

Nauseating colors, fart jokes, dumbass villains giving away their schemes before getting their shit kicked in.

Sports.

Wrestlers in tights so small he can practically see everyone's assholes, football players getting away with beating their significant others, more idiots screaming opinionated bullshit at one another.

Late night pay per view porn.

He could just listen to the two upstairs if he wanted to listen to two people faking it. At least he wouldn't have to pay for it.

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, moving to get up and go to bed. When he got up, the USB slipped from his pocket and fell to the floor, clattering loud enough to catch his attention. He looked down and a sudden wave of interest hit him.

It was against everything he'd ever been taught as a hitman. You never ask or wonder what your employer is doing. Whatever shady dealings they're up to behind the scenes is none of your concern. The only things that matter are the target and the paycheck, nothing in between.

Eh...fuck it.

He rolled his neck and walked to the dining room table, grabbing his laptop and starting it up, idly twirling the USB between his fingertips as the screen lit up. Once he was all set up, he slid the drive in, pulling up the files with mild curiosity. It only took him a minute or two into reading before his eyes grew and he nearly dropped his beer. He scanned the files thoroughly, lips parting slightly as he read more and more of the secrets The Authority were hiding from the world.

Hiding from _him_.

Jon slammed the laptop closed when he'd gotten to the final line of text, running a hand through his hair. His heart was pounding as he gnawed on his thumbnail, leg bouncing erratically.

"Son of a bitch" he hissed, snatching the USB out before striding to his room and throwing himself into bed. He fiddled with the USB for a while before shaking his head and stuffing it under the bed, staring at the wall across from him.

Sleep didn't come easy to him that night.

 **/~/**

He woke up like he did every day. With an abrupt start triggered from a nightmare he had the night before. He clutched his chest, eyes wide as he took a few gasps of air to fill his lungs, he coughed and rubbed his temples when he finally settled down, eyes watery. He almost missed the sound of another being moving around in his apartment.

Without making a sound, he pulled out a pistol from beneath his pillow and made his way to the bathroom, eyes narrowed as he kicked the door open, aiming right between the eyes of the other person inside.

They hardly batted a lash, bored brown eyes looking at him in disinterest before a raspy chuckle left their lips.

"Hyahahaha. C'mon, you not happy to see me, Mox?" Seth inquired. Jon's eye twitched in annoyance as he lowered his gun, lip curling up. He contemplated shooting him in the knee or something, but remembered that he was Stephanie and Hunter's lapdog and hurting him would only make his life difficult.

"What the hell are you doing in my apartment?" He questioned flatly. Seth clicked his tongue, pulling his hair back into a bun. "I'm just here to make sure you report to Hunter and Stephanie before anything else Jonny boy." He hummed, brushing shoulders with Jon as he walked by, a low purr leaving his throat.

"Unless you have something more... _fun_ in mind we could do before that?" He mewled, fingers running across Jon's arm.

Quick as ever, Seth dodged the oncoming pistol whip from Jon, giggling like a madman as the older man glared at him, clearly not amused.

"That was one time and I was drunk"

"But you moaned like you enjoyed it. I know I did~ Couldn't walk straight for _days_ -"

"Keep talking and I'll send you back to Mommy and Daddy in several garbage bags"

"Bet you wanted me to call _you dadd-_ OW FUCK!"

Jon punched Seth in the hip and grunted as the smaller man yelped, shuffling away as the disgruntled man made his way into the bathroom to shower. He made it quick, thankful the little shit was gone when he got back into the room to dress. He grabbed the USB, the small object now seeming like it was heavier than ever as he made his way out to meet Seth in his living room.

The two toned man was grumbling as he paced around, clearly not pleased with the state of the apartment. "Why do you stay in such a bland place? We pay you enough to get you a nice seaside place or something more than... _this_." He commented, nose curled up. Mox shoved his hands in his pockets and headed straight for the door, cigarette dangling from his lips.

"If you don't like my place, by all means, get the hell out" He retorted. Seth eyed him for a moment before humming, following after him. He pulled the door handle closed, lips twitching upwards ever so slightly as he lingered behind just slightly.

 _Too bad you'll never see this bland place ever again_

 **/~/**

Stephanie hummed as Jon walked into her office with Seth trailing behind him. The former placed the USB on her desk, chewing gum quietly as he watch her pass the USB to Brad Maddox, who was standing beside her.. The small man plugged it into the laptop he was holding, ticking away at the keyboard with one hand before placing the device in front of Stephanie. She looked down at the screen, face blank as she scrolled down.

The room was quiet, everyone watching as the empress if the McMahon empire reviewed the data. She smiled after a moment before looking up at Moxley.

"Very good. I knew it was better to send you than one of the others. Regal always did have a soft spot for dirty blondes. And you're the dirtiest I know, aren't you?" She cooed, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. Jon hardly twitched at the double-edged compliment. Stephanie was good for those, and he'd learned to brush them off-

"It's a shame. I'm going to miss you doing our dirty work"

Well. That's new.

Mox perked, looking her in the eyes and clenching his teeth as he saw her eyes narrow. Brad hummed and Seth licked his lips behind him, foot shifting slightly. Jon kept his eyes on her, but he was hyper aware of everyone else in the room. She clicked her tongue, tilting her head.

"All you had to do was mind your business and do the job we paid you to do"

He rolled his neck.

"Technically, you haven't paid me for this one yet"

Steph hissed and Jon ducked, feeling the air behind him shift as Seth took a swing. He swept his feet, rolling out of the way as Brad pulled out a concealed gun, firing at him. Stephanie hissed from her desk, fists clenched. "How about I pay you in bullets?!" She snarled. He darted out of the way, shouldering the door open before he rushed down the hall, cursing up a storm as he heard shots ringing out all around him.

"I only accept monetary payments, bitch!" He threw over his shoulder.

He ran to the end of one hall, breaking some man's arm and taking his gun before he pulled him onto the cover of the wall, listening as the several others came running his way. He counted in his head before shoving the squirming man out first, ducking as he was immediately riddled with bullets. Jon grit his teeth before poking his head out, firing at the group of startled men, hitting vital spots before he rushed down that hall, kicking open the emergency staircase doors. He looked downwards. shooting at anyone he saw coming up before bolting down them, taking two at a time.

He made it to the end of the case, looking for which way to go when a terrible shock went through his body. He screamed and fell, vision blurring as he looked up at the form of a small blonde woman. She hovered over him, head tilting to the side as he tried to focus.

"R-Renee-"

"Sorry Mox. It's either you or me" she cut him off, pulling the trigger of her taser gun. Jon convulsed and writhed on the floor in agony before passing out, body twitching a few more times even after Renee had stopped the bolts. She sighed and watched as a few of the Authority's men hefted him up, heading down the hall to the West wing with Seth leading them, a wicked smile on his face. She closed her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear.

What mess. She had to make sure she wouldn't have to clean up whatever was left of him when this was all over

 **/~/**

Jon groaned when his hair was wretched up, glaring at Seth with pure, unbridled rage. He was more mad at himself for getting caught than the two toned bastard for torturing him for the past couple of hours, but that didn't mean he wanted to kill him any less.

"Rise and shine, dimples~"

No, quite the contrary. He definitely wanted to kill the bastard.

"What the hell are you guys planning on doing with that information?" He spat, trying to snatch his head out of Seth's grip. The younger man only tightened his hold,. tsking quietly. "Aw how cute. You think I'm going to give away our big plan to you? This isn't a movie. You're going to die soon anyway, you won't even be alive for what's about to happen to the world" He chirped, looking absolutely giddy. Jon glared at him, slightly twisting his wrists to and fro in their bindings.

"Fine. How about you tell me how you found out how you knew I looked at the USB" he growled, feeling blood start to run down into his eyes. Seth had hit him with a blunt object about an hour ago and that was the reason behind him fading in and out of consciousness. Seth sent him a Cheshire-worthy grin.

"You didn't honestly think we wouldn't have your shitty apartment monitored 24/7, did you?" He almost snorted. Jon leered at him, clenching his fists over and over before relaxing them, feeling the ropes give ever so slightly. Seth lifted his chin and shook his head.

"It's too bad. I looked forward to playing with you again some day" he pouted. Jon's eyes narrowed and he swung his head forward, headbutting him as hard as he could. Seth yelped in pain and Jon ripped his arms free, grabbing a handful of Seth's hair and slamming him hard onto the table in front of him before yanking the key to the door off of the table, rushing out before anyone could check the source of the scuffle.

Stephanie watched from her office as the man stumbled out of the building, stealing a car and making his way out of the parking lot, driving erratically. Brad peered over her shoulder, brows knitted up in worry.

"You're just going to let him go?" He inquired. Stephanie chuckled and clicked her tongue, eyes half lidded.

"Please. As if he can run from an empire as big as mine. The man is good, but he isn't that good" She responded, cutting the feed.

"Let him run and build his false confidence that he can escape. It'll only make it more fun when I crush him like the bug he's always been. He brought this on himself"

 **/~/**

Jon ditched the car after driving out of town, coughing weakly as his vision began to blur again. He had managed to clean up most of his own blood with some tissues in the glove compartment of the car and he stole a hat to cover his injured head, but he was at a loss as to what to do.

Knees wobbly, Jon stumbled into an alleyway, intending to rest himself so he could focus, but he lost his footing and slipped, hitting the ground hard before his vision faded to black.

 **/*/**

"Alright class, you're dismissed for the winter. Have a great break and I'll see you when the new year comes around!" a low voice boomed over a rowdy classroom of elementary school students just as the final bell rang for the day. The fifth graders cheered, some making a break for the door and rushing out into the snow while some lingered behind to thrust small, brightly colored bags into his face.

"Mr. Reigns, I got you a mug!"

"Mr. Reigns, my mommy baked you some cookies!"

"Mr. Reigns, I'm giving you my WWE action figure! It's my favorite, so take care of it!"

The Samoan teacher smiled fondly at the students, graciously accepting the gifts and sending the children off with a smile and a wave. He stayed behind to get his desk in order before standing, pushing his glasses up on his nose as he grabbed his satchel, carefully putting each gift inside before heading out of the room. He waved at his fellow teachers as he walked by, getting various "See you next year, Roman!"s and "Merry Christmas, Roman~"s. He nodded at them, huffing when his glasses slid down on his nose a bit more before he got outside.

He shivered and walked over to his car, unlocking it before moving around to his trunk to set his satchel and some of the larger gift bags inside. As he closed it and looked up, he noticed shoes protruding from an alley across the street from the faculty parking lot. He squinted, pushing his glasses up more before grey eyes grew, a gasp leaving his lips when he realized those shoes were _attached_ to someone. He looked both ways before rushing across the street, kneeling down beside the fallen person, praying that he hadn't stumbled on a dead body.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the person's chest rising and falling just barely. He gently shook the man to see if he could rouse him, but to no avail. Roman shook his head, and despite his better judgement, grabbed the smaller man by the arm, picking him up. He could see that his head was bleeding somewhere, as the hat he was wearing was starting to change color from soaking up the copper liquid. Roman looked both ways once more and shuffled back across the street, helping the man into his car before he shuffled to the driver's side, pulling off in a hurry.

Now, Roman was by no means a reckless or naive man. But perhaps it was the cold and the holiday season that clouded his better judgement and muted the reasonable side of his conscious to just take him to the hospital or call the cops.

Instead, they were at his home in no time, and the larger man managed to heft the comatose man into his house without a neighbor seeing and questioning the incredibly odd situation. He placed him down on the couch, pulling up a chair after fetching his first aid kit and easing the hat off of the man's head. He cringed at the gash in his head and began cleaning the wound, pausing every time the unknown man's body twitched or jerked in response to the sting of the alcohol or the pain of him sewing the wound closed. Roman let out a sigh when he was done an hour later, looking over his work with a small nod of approval. It wasn't professional (he'd learned how to patch people up from watching medics at the football games he was in back in high school and college), but it would do and the man wouldn't get an infection now.

Roman was worried about the smaller man having concussion, however.

Before he could finish that thought, the smaller man roused from his comatose state rather abruptly, nearly headbutting him as he shot up, blue eyes wild and unfocused.

"Woah! Take it easy!" He yelped, backing up just in time. The smaller man looked around before his eyes landed on Roman, narrowing instantly. He looked him up and down, sizing him up before looking around them, fingers twitching by his sides. He ground his teeth before looking at him once more.

"Where am I? Who are you?" He questioned, voice rough and cracking. Roman noticed the disgruntled look on his face after hearing his own voice and he stood, turning to head to the kitchen to grab him a water bottle. "My name is Roman Reigns. I'm a school teacher. I found you unconscious in an alley a little ways from the school" He responded, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't further startle the man.

Jon's eyes narrowed on the taller man as soon as he stood and turned his back on him. If he was some kind of assassin, he was shit. You never turn your back on another assassin-wait, _school teacher?_

"So...you found me unconscious in an alley and you bring me to your house?" He inquired carefully, watching his every move. He didn't seem to be grabbing any weapons. Instead, he was bringing him a water bottle? Jon tilted his head as the raven-haired man sat down in front of him again.

"Yeah...that's about right" He affirmed, scratching his head bashfully, a few hairs coming loose from his bun. Jon squinted, carefully taking a sip of the water. He deemed it okay, taking a larger sip as he watched the other man for a moment before speaking.

"Do you normally bring unconscious people you find on the street into your home?" He inquired flatly. He realized how rude he was coming off to the man that quite literally saved his life, but he needed to be sure this wasn't some set up Stephanie put in place and that he wasn't two seconds away from a fight in this fancy ass living room. Truth be told, he had no energy left for a fight and the larger man could easily overpower him in his current state.

Roman took it in stride, however, pushing his glasses up before sitting back. "Actually, no. I'm not sure why I didn't just bring you to a hospital. You don't appear to be on drugs, and you haven't tried to slit my throat yet, so that's a good sign. Do you want me to drive you home?" He inquired, head tilting to the side. Jon stared at him before blinking owlishly.

This man was definitely not one of Stephanie's assassins. He knew all of the other hitmen and he was sure none of the underlings were competent enough to appear this...genuine.

"I don't have a home. I was evicted today and I got mugged on the street and passed out. That's why you found me like that" He lies smoothly, looking down at his feet for added effect. Roman frowned and sat up a bit straighter.

"Do you have anyone to stay with?"

"Nope. Mom's been dead 12 years and my "father" might as well be Waldo because I sure as fuck haven't been able to find him all my life"

Roman's frown deepened and he tapped his chin. "I'm so sorry...Well, you're already here, do you want to stay here until you get up on your feet?" He inquired. Jon cocked a brow.

"Letting a stranger stay in your home? How have you kept yourself alive this long?"

"What's your name?" Roman ignored his comment and hummed, looking him in the eyes. Jon blinked.

"Wha?"

"If you tell me your name, we won't be strangers. So, what's your name?"

Jon paused. The older man seemed to be genuine about his offer and he swallowed another gulp of water, gears turning. He couldn't tell him his real name, just in case Stephanie pulled some strings and had his name out there for people to watch out for. He surely couldn't go anywhere near his old home. He was certain there was someone there at all times just in case he made the incredibly idiotic decision to go back. Instead, he cleared his throat and looked Roman dead in the eye, a small, tired smile on his face.

"Dean. My name is Dean Ambrose"

* * *

 _(Something a little different for the soul._

 _Please review, and until next time, happy holidays and I love you~_

 _-Scarlet)_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Blaze

 _ **Content Warning for semi-graphic character death**_

Roman smiled at him, clapping him on the shoulder. "See? That wasn't so hard. You can stay in the guest room. What size are you?" He inquired, standing and walking down the hall. He paused when he realized Dean hadn't followed him. The slightly smaller man realized his error and stood, making his way after Roman, blue eyes still clearly guarded. Roman didn't comment on it, and instead asked his question once more.

"What size are you? I'll lend you some clothes." Roman repeated patiently. Dean looked away, lips a tight line. "I...don't even remember the last time I bought clothes for myself. I couldn't even tell you." He responded truthfully. Roman paused for a moment before dipping into a room. With the door ajar, Dean could see that it was the master bedroom. He leaned to the left to peer inside, blinking as he saw the large California king bed settled in the center of the room, dark navy blue sheets draped over the plush mattress. The walls were solid black, with a few lines marked here and there with what appeared to be white Sharpie. Dean's brows furrowed.

"They're for later. I intend to paint my walls when I get around to it. It's going to be a tree." Roman's voice cut him out of his nosy search, and blue eyes snapped up to meet grey. Roman sent him a sympathetic smile, holding up a pile of clothes.

"Sorry for scaring you. Here are the clothes I was talking about. Just a couple pants and shirts for now. We can go out tomorrow or something to buy you some new underwear. Is this okay for now?" He questioned. Dean had to resist the urge to scoff at him. There was more and more evidence that this man wasn't another assassin at all. His movements were much too...obvious. He didn't walk on the tips of his toes with a target in sight. He didn't sneak up on Dean in the slightest. If anything, the slightly smaller man could hear and see him coming a mile away.

Instead, he took the clothes and sent him a smile. "Thanks. This means a lot. Which room am I staying in, again?" He inquired. Roman flashed him a smile and made his way down the hall, opening another door. As soon as Dean stepped into it, Dean hated it.

This one was slightly smaller than the last, with the walls having a grey wallpaper on it with a fractal-like design on it. The bed was a standard queen size with black and white bedding on it. All of that was fine, Dean was never one to complain about home decour (unless it was pink. Or orange. _fuck_ that), but the thing that made him hate it was the large window beside the bed. It had a view of the city separated by a body of water and a bridge. It made him uneasy to know he'd have to rest so close to an easy way for someone to get in.

Roman must've noticed his hesitance, so he placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to check out the other room?" He questioned, reading the small, uncomfortable twitches to Dean's lips the more he stared at the window. Dean seemed to let out a gracious sigh, nodding once. Roman turned and walked out, closing the door behind him before he opened the door adjacent to the first one. Dean followed him in and let out a small sigh of relief.

It was the same size as the other room, with a carpeted white floor and blue and white striped walls with bedsheets to match. There was only one window in this room and it was at the far side, putting a couple of feet between it and the bed. Dean sent Roman a small, grateful smile.. Roman nodded in response and set the clothing down on the dresser beside them. "I'll let you get settled, then. The shower is down the hall. There's fresh towels and rags in the cupboard beside the room. Try not to soak your head too much." Roman warned him before leaving, muttering something about cooking dinner. Dean watched him go and then looked back at the room he was in, finally letting a long, tired sigh leave his lips.

He'd been nearly killed and definitely had a bounty or a hit on his head now. He managed to drive _towns_ away from his original home-he wasn't quite sure where he was now, but he knew it was a big city of some sort-and somehow managed to find someone kind (foolish) enough to keep him. And in such a nice home, too. He felt tiredness roll over him once more, but fought it back this time, deciding he'd rather be clean and unconscious instead of the opposite again. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, he made his way to the bathroom that Roman had pointed out to him, stopping to grab a towel and rag before stepping in.

Immediately, Dean began questioning whether or not Roman was lying to him about being a teacher. The bathroom was like something ripped out of a movie about royals, with ceramic black tiles on all the walls except for the ones around the sink, which were white marble with little flecks of grey in them. Dean would have to casually inquire later on where in the fuck Roman had gotten the money for all of this on a teacher's salary. For now, he stripped out of his sticky clothing and stepped into the glass shower, turning on the water and standing under the cold spray for a moment before it began to warm up, running down his sore muscles. Blue eyes remained trained on the floor, fatigue pulling at him from every angle.

He had lost his 'job', couldn't return home, and a whole organization of power-hungry wackjobs were after him. He clenched his fists. It was his own fault, but Dean was starting to wonder if he should even continue running.

He had no family. His home wasn't all that. There was no significant other waiting for him to return home anxiously. He had nothing.

So why run?

Dean grunted quietly, feeling his chest tighten up slightly. He breathed out sharply, eyes squeezed shut as his heart began to beat erratically in his chest. He pressed his forehead to the wall, limbs tight.

' _Breathe in, breathe out, Jon._

 _Breathe in, breathe out, make sure to count to ten._

 _Remind yourself...to breathe again'_

His mother's voice echoed on his head. He slowly relaxed, grabbing the rag with shaky hands before he began to meticulously wash himself. The soothing mantra repeated itself in his head until he was calm once more.

' _I'm running because I'll be back with enough force to take them all down. Each and every single one.'_

Half an hour later, Dean steps out of the shower, drying himself and dressing quickly before he gathered his old clothes, walking back out to the bedroom. He could smell something sweet wafting into his nose, and couldn't help the growl that left his stomach. He set the clothing down and followed the scent back to the kitchen. Roman was finishing up the meal, sleeves unbuttoned and rolled up his forearm. He looked up when Dean entered, smiling at him.

"Dinner is Keke pua'a, Kale moa, and Alaisa fa'apopo." He stated proudly. He was met with Dean's furrowed brow and a look of barely hidden confusion. Roman blinked for a moment before slapping his forehead, remembering that Dean had never had dinner with him, and didn't know the names of the Samoan dishes he made.

"Shit. Sorry. Let me explain. These are Keke pua'a," He started, motioning to the first platter, which had a neat stack of round, dumpling-like food on it. "It's a Samoan dish. They're pork buns-you eat pork, right?" Roman paused, looking worried. Dean gave him a curt nod, tucking away the new information. That explained the scent of cooking pork that drifted into the bathroom while he was showering. Roman let out a small sigh of relief. "Is there anything you don't eat? Any allergies?" He inquired.

' _You get to eat tonight, boy. Chin's up. Warden's coming this way. Hurry!'_

Dean swallowed thickly and shook his head, skin crawling as he took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn't afford to have Roman think he was a nut and kick him out now.

"N-No." God, he sounded pathetic.

"I'm not very picky about food. Never know when your next meal is gonna be, y'know?" He laughed, though it was strained. Roman clicked his tongue. "Hm...Well, you don't have to worry about being hungry under this roof. Here, let me make your plate." The taller man offered graciously, motioning for Dean to take a seat.

"Kale moa is chicken curry. I hope you don't mind spicy foods. And Alaisa fa'apopo is coconut rice. We Samoans usually eat this as a snack, rather than a side dish, but I don't know how well your tolerance to spicy food is, so I figured something sweet would balance it out. That okay?" He called over his shoulder, moving to set the plate in front of him. Dean didn't respond. Instead, he picked up a bun, biting it nearly in half with the first bite. Roman blinked and watched as a small look of delight spread across his face before he began eating. There was a somewhat ravenous way that his new housemate ate, as if he hadn't had a decent meal in ages. Roman hummed in response, taking it as a compliment to his cooking that Dean was eating it so eagerly before he began eating himself, albeit much calmer and a lot less messy.

Dean was, of course, the first to finish eating, after getting up to make seconds (and even thirds). Roman finished soon after his second plate, wiping his mouth before he moved to grab the plate from Dean.

"No. I got it." Dean finally spoke for the first time after he had taken his first bite. Roman looked ready to protest, but Dean raised his hand, silently cutting him off. "You bring me in from the cold, deal with my sarcastic bullshit, give me a nice ass room, _and_ feed me. The least I can do is wash the damn dishes." There was a certain finality in his voice that made Roman back down, a small smile on his face as he passed his plate over to Dean. He received a small smile before Dean went to wash out the dishes. Roman moved towards the back door, leaning out to peer into the night.

It had snowed a few days before, and the ground in his backyard was bare aside from a few pawprints from the stray cats. The night air was cold and crisp, and he took a deep breath, hands deep in his pockets. Dean was watching him from the sink, only mildly interested as he put the last dish in the drain.

"That some interesting snow out there, hm?" The dirty blonde mused, making his way over to Roman's side. The taller man frowned. "Put a jacket on, Dean. You'll catch a cold." He scolded. Dean arched a brow.

"I'm a grown ass man."

"A grown ass man that needs to put his damn jacket on."

Baby blues rolled before Dean made his way back into the house, plopping down on the couch. Roman came in a few minutes later, sitting at the other side of the couch, turning on some generic crime show and settling in as they both fell into a comfortable silence, the remote between them incase Dean wanted to change the channel.

He never touched it, however. He simply watched with half lidded eyes as the detectives miraculously solved crimes within the 60 minute timeframe. It was laughable how sloppy everything was executed, both on the murderer's and detective's behalf. After three episodes, he let out a yawn, standing and stretching. There was a certain satisfaction that came with the pop of his joints.

"I'm heading to bed." He announced quietly. Roman nodded. "Goodnight Dean." He responded, still engrossed in the show. The blonde made his way back to his room, closing and locking the door before he let himself drop to the bed. He sat there in silence, letting the exhaustion tug at him once more.

This time, he let it wash over him and pull him in.

 _ **/Athens, OH/**_

Seth groaned, nails digging into Randy's shoulders as the older man relentlessly thrusted into him over and over. He was sure the 'Viper' was bleeding from the assault on his back, but he couldn't care less if it meant he would keep fucking him like this. He was already so _close_ -

 _*riiing~*_

"'You've got to be _fucking_ kidding me." Randy snarled. Seth would suggest they ignore it, but they both knew that ringtone ment business. With a roll of his eyes, Seth reached for the phone when Randy slid out of him-eliciting a whine of disappointment.

"This better be good." He snarled, none too happy with the timing of the call. He was met with a scoff.

"Stephanie told me to contact you, asswipe. Jon hasn't returned the apartment, as expected. She told me to call you if he didn't." The British voice rang out in his ears. He clicked his tongue, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. "If baby blues didn't come back to the nest, he doesn't miss it. You know what to do, then. Erase all traces of it." He yawned. He could practically _hear_ the woman's smile at that.

"You're telling me I don't have to remain in this shitty position anymore?" She inquired, sounding giddy. Seth chuckled, feeling Randy shift to listen into the call. "You heard me right, Paige. Find a fun way to get rid of the evidence. We do have to leave an impression, after all." He cooed, clicking his phone off and letting it drop to the pillow beside him. Randy hummed slightly, scruffy cheek on his shoulder, half lidded eyes staring at the dark-screened phone.

"So, it looks like his isn't as crazy as you all say he is, hm?' He inquired. Seth snorted, moving to look down at the taller man.

"He's crazy, not stupid. It doesn't matter. He's only one man. We _built_ Jon Moxley. It won't be hard to rip him back to shreds." He chirped. Randy hummed in response before he stood, heading in the direction of the door. Seth's brows furrowed.

"Wait, where are you going? We weren't finished!"

"Then bring your scrawny ass in the shower with me."

Seth grinned, standing and making his way out of the room hastily.

 _ **/Across Town/**_

Paige popped a bubble as she made her way through the rooms of the apartment complex, putting a single, silenced bullet in the temples of everyone she encountered, sleeping or otherwise. It was annoying weaving through the hissing cats from the woman down the hall, but Paige had been looking forward to shooting the twitchy woman ever since Stephanie had placed her in that god awful place to monitor Jon in the first place. She also took pleasure in getting rid of the douche upstairs. She lost count of how many times she had heard him screaming and berating his girlfriend. It seemed fitting she took him out after catching him with his pants around his ankles, beating off to some fetish porn. She shot the laptop for good measure. She only hesitated after she had taken out the single mother the floor above her, eyes drifting down towards the small, whining baby in the cradle across the room. She approached it quietly, eyes drifting down to the child as she began to stir, fussing probably because she'd soiled herself or was hungry. Paige raised the gun, hand steady as she aimed. The baby girl cracked open her eyes, a small whine leaving her lips as she reached for the gun, tiny fingers wrapped around the barrel.

"...Oh, bloody hell." Paige cursed under her breath, clicking the safety back on the gun. Her jaw ticked and she looked around, finding clothes for the wide-eyed girl to wear. She reached into the crib, retrieving the child before walking out, making sure the baby girl was tightly bundled up. December air tended to be cruel and unforgivable.

1 hour later, the Athens fire department had a small, crying bundle settled on their front steps. One of the firefighters pulled the screaming child inside as the rest of them rushed out to respond to a fire call, desperately rushing out into the night to put out the blazing apartment complex in the lower income side of the town.

Paige watched from the rooftop of a building a few blocks down, popping another bubble from the gum that was rapidly losing flavor in her mouth. She pulled away, tucking her hair behind her ear as she sent Stephanie a text, descending quietly.

' _The nest has been destroyed.'_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3: Miles From Home_

Dean bolted up the next morning, blue eyes wide and unfocused. His chest heaved and it took him a full minute to calm himself, quickly processing that he was in his new room in Roman's house.

That's right...Roman's house.

Dean let out a sigh and grabbed his rag before heading out towards the bathroom. He paused once he was in the hallway, overhearing the TV in the living room.

' _Late last night, an apartment complex went up in flames in the town of Athens, Ohio. Investigations are underway as foul play is being suspected, as several tenants are believed to have been murdered before the complex went up in flames. In our next story, let's see how this video of a kitten went viral-'_

Dean froze, eyes narrowing as he turned and headed towards the living room, finding Roman shuffling about the space with the news on, fiddling with the pieces of a Christmas tree. He grunted, eyes narrowed at the two plastic pieces in his hands, trying to clamp them together for the support for the fake tree as his glasses constantly drooped down past his nose.

"Isn't it a bit late to be setting up Christmas decorations?" He inquired, startling the larger man. At least, if the telltale sound of plastic cracking was anything to go by. Roman cursed under his breath, sadly looking down at the remains of the plastic support.

"You were out could when I brought you in, so you didn't see the outside of the house. The lights and yard decorations are already out there. I just...kept losing track of time." He laughed nervously, fidgeting with the now broken remains of the support for his tree.

Dean stared at him, unimpressed before he clicked his tongue. "That tree is done for. Before you even broke the thing. The branches are all bent out of place. How long have you had that?" He inquired, motioning to several branches bent at awkward angles. Roman's brows furrowed, deep in thought.

"...5...7 years?"

"...So, we're going to get a new tree today, right?"

Roman pushed his glasses up before he hummed, setting the pieces down. Dean turned to head back for the shower, yawning quietly. He could care less if Roman decided to leave or not-

"I suppose we are. Have you ever been around Indianapolis before?"

Dean nearly tripped.

Roman was at his side in a flash, concern etched all over his face.

"Are you okay? Are you dizzy? Is it your head? Here let me-"

Dean grunted, swatting Roman's mother hen-like hands away from his head, brows furrowed.

"M'fine. Did you say Indianapolis?"

Roman fixed him with a confused look.

"Yeah. Indianapolis. I found you in the town I work in, in Spring Hill. It's about 15 minutes or so from here. Why, is that weird? Where are you from?"

 _The next fucking state, three hours away-_

"Bloomington."

Roman's eyes grew. "Bloomington? That's an hour away! How the hell did you get all the way here?" He inquired, shock etched all over his face. "When did you get mugged?"

"Hitchhiked. You can go far enough when you're trying to get a fresh start. I guess I got mugged when I got off of the bus somewhere. Everything is kind of hazy." Sometimes Dean hated how easily he could lie his way out of situations. This was not one of those times.

Roman shook his head, backing out of Dean's space. "You've had it rough huh, man? I can try and help you find a job to get you on your feet." He offered. It made Dean feel a bit bad, hearing the genuine need to help laced in Roman's voice. He wondered idly what it felt like to have such good intentions.

"I appreciate it. For now, I need a shower, then we can go get you another tree." He closed off any further conversation subtly, making his way to the shower while Roman went off to do god knows what.

Dean closed his eyes and let the shower water roll over his tense muscles. The rag was in a loose grip in his hand as he tried to sort his rampant thoughts out.

' _So you somehow managed to drive three hours into the next state. At least you know where you are.'_

Dean reached for the soap bar, lathering it up liberally before he washed himself.

' _They burned the fucking apartment complex down.'_

He paused, breath seizing up slightly. He knew those people. As annoying as they may have been, they were still _innocent_. Dean had killed several people in his career as a hitman. All of them had done their fair share of corrupt shit.

From human trafficking, to drug dealing.

Extortion to government corruption.

Dean had put a bullet in, snapped the necks of, even poisoned the worst of the worst under The Authority's orders. But those people...they were different. They honestly had _nothing_ to do with the situation, and yet all of them were dead.

All of them…

Even the infant baby girl.

Dean felt his chest tighten up at the thought. That little girl, brought into this world merely months ago, had been taken out because of him.

' _All my fault...it's...all my fault.'_

Dean slid to the floor, eyes wide and unfocused as he struggled to breathe. He tried to remember his mother's soothing voice, but the sound of his panicked heart and short, choked breaths drowned out her mantra. He gripped his head tight. The world spun far too fast, maddeningly fast...why the _fuck_ is it going so fast?

The shower water suddenly felt like daggers sinking into his skin. He heard several voices. Those of his former neighbors.

And...fire. So much fire.

He looked down at his hands, breath coming in harsh bursts as he stared down at the screaming infant in his arms. She was ablaze, searing into his own skin.

"Dean? Holy fuck, Dean!"

The daggers stopped digging themselves into his skin, the fire flickered, and suddenly a solid form eclipsed into his line of sight before he was blind again, pressed tightly against something soft and warm. He wasn't burning anymore. Not quite.

"Breathe. C'mon, in. Count to 5, Dean. Hold it...you're doing good. Exhale. 1...2...3. Do it again."

Dean felt the world slow down. Like the out of control carousel that's finally coming to a stop. Round and round...round...and...round. Until it was still once more. His vision went from triple, to double, before finally settling on the solid form of Roman Reigns.

Roman stared at him silently before reaching to the toilet, grabbing the crumpled form of his towel. Dean took it a little bit more forcefully than he wanted to, face burning as he wiped away the tears first. Hopefully the water covering his face made it impossible to tell he was crying during his breakdown. Roman hesitantly stood up and extended a hand to him.

Dean looked away, gripping the towel tight.

Roman took the sign for what it was, nodding slightly before he turned and walked away, leaving Dean by himself. It took the man a full minute to compose himself. Another three before he stood and slowly made his way out on shaky legs.

He found a folded pile of new clothes sitting on his bed when he got to his room, along with a note.

' _If you still want to get out of the house, let me know. I'll be in my room if you need anything. -Ro'_

Dean stared at the paper for longer than he should before he ran a hand through his damp hair. He put the clothes on and paced the room a few times. He could hole himself in the room. Roman wouldn't be able to get in this bitch if Dean really didn't want him to.

…ugh.

Dean sighed and walked out of the room, heading towards Roman's. He pushed on the cracked door, mouth opening to quietly draw his attention when he stopped short.

Roman had moved the bed aside, paintbrush in hand as he made long, elegant strokes against his bedroom wall. He hadn't even noticed Dean enter his room, grey eyes focused on each stroke from behind his constantly dropping glasses.

He seemed to anticipate that Dean would come, however, hardly stirring when Dean came up to his side, with a brush that didn't match the one in his own hand, wordlessly adding short, thick lines. Roman didn't seem to care, he continued silently painting his own side, thankfully not bothering to ask Dean something tedious like "Are you okay?" or "What was that?"

So, Dean spoke first.

"The...the apartment complex. The one that was on the news? I knew some people there. A...a friend of mine lived there. There were good people in that place. I guess...it hit me kind of hard." He muttered. It was more truth than most of what Dean had told Roman up to this point, but for some reason the truth laced lie made him cringe internally.

"I get these really bad breakdowns sometimes. Dunno what to call it, panic or anxiety," He chuckled and thumbed his nose, unconsciously smearing paint on his cheek. "I don't remember when they started happening, but they're pretty fucking pathetic."

Another lie. They started when his mother was taken from him.

Roman's hand paused, and his brows furrowed for a moment. As if he was trying to find the right words to say. He set the brush down and wiped his hands on his pants.

"I wouldn't call you pathetic. It's very serious, and I wouldn't take it lightly. A lot of people don't understand what happens during those attacks. It's easy for them to tell the sufferer that it's pathetic or that they should get over it. I don't see it that way. If you feel like it's gonna happen, just call me. Even if you need someone to just walk you through it, I got you."

Dean stared at him. Probably longer than he should. He let a small chuckle leave his lips before he turned to the tree painted on the wall.

"I came in and fucked it up." he mused, waiting for Roman to snap at him. The older man only shrugged.

"I like it. Just because something is a bit flawed instead of being smooth doesn't make it any less beautiful. I'm gonna keep it like this." Roman hummed, looking up fondly at the wall.

Dean couldn't help the hearty laugh that bubbled out of his chest.

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